


and so it's us

by Silverhaunter



Series: until we're all that's left [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi's Mother, Akeshu could be seen as an inherently unhealthy relationship, Akira Kurusu Has A Palace, And/Or fatalistic thoughts, Canonical Implied/Referenced Suicide, Coffee Dad Sakura Sojiro, Consensual Underage Sex, Good Parent Sakura Sojiro, Grieving, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mature rating is for the themes, No notable cliffhanger, Non-Explicit Sex, Persona 5 Protagonist Has A Palace, Persona 5: The Royal, Semi-unfinished but finished enough, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, akechi third person pov, also i gave akechi a third pt outfit, and i might be bitter, but he does talk negatively to them, but i didn't purposefully make it worse, implied suicidal thoughts, so not really phantom thieves bashing, that tag is the most important, unless alcohol and sex are worse, you know what - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverhaunter/pseuds/Silverhaunter
Summary: “Are you in love with me?” he doesn’t say, and it tastes like acid on the back of his tongue.“Am I in love with you?” he doesn’t say, and it feels like he’s burning from the inside out.Their relationship is the way Crow is addicted to the way it feels to kill, their relationship is the way somedays Joker can only quell the shaking of his hands with vices his body is too young for—Their relationship is the way Akechi Goro begs Kurusu Akira not to say ‘I love you’ and the way Kurusu Akira says it with his eyes, instead.Their relationship is the way Goro holds in a scream perched just beneath his chin as Akira’s lifeless body hits the table, splattering blood across the surface.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: until we're all that's left [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867372
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	and so it's us

**Author's Note:**

> In the fight with Akechi, Akira doesn't use Arsene, because Arsene is a persona that typically uses curse if you don't modify him, and yes, i love writing Arsene and Akira, and they are in this, and will be in the future parts of this, but I used Raphael to fight Akechi. I used Heat riser and swords dance, specifically. I kind of want to emphasize Joker being a super powerful Trickster a little more in this than I often see in fics... uh but mostly I just. wanted to project.

**_June 10_ **

_I’m definitely going to have to scribble over some of this stuff before I give it to Sojiro_

_or maybe I’ll just skip town permanently and go somewhere that my actions don’t have consequences_

_There was a guy at the TV station, sort of a weird kind of (redacted) guy. I’ve never really wanted to punch someone in the face at the same time as wanting to kiss them as hard as I can before, but there’s a first for everything._

_His name’s Akechi Goro. He’s ( ~~redacted~~ ) ( ~~redacted~~ ) ( ~~redacted~~ ) famous, I guess. _

_He’s so hot_

_I’m so dead_

**_June 25_ **

_Akechi is left-handed._

_I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking about it._

_( ~~redacted~~ ) no matter how i try to justify that it sounds horny _

_sorry sojiro i will try to remember to scratch that out_

_maybe i should just rip out this page now_

**_July 7_ **

_That felt like a date_

_I think that was a date_

_he let me run my hands through his hair far longer than strictly necessary in order to mess it up for a disguise_

_i think he leaned into my touch but i was probably imagining it_

_i was imagining it_

_Anyway_

_he wore my glasses_

_my secret is out, they’re not real and now my prospective (redacted) knows_

_wait saying that is probably bad luck_

_he texted me_

_he called me and asked me to come over_

_he somehow got his hands on some sort of strong alcohol_

_and i kissed him without really thinking about it and i am hungover i think_

_i slept with him_

_i slept with akechi goro_

_i told him_

  
  


**_August 13_ **

_he likes jazz clubs_

  
  


_he seems sad_

_and not in the short term sort of way_

_depressed isn’t the right word though, he’s not…_

_he’s complicated_

_being near him feels like tragedy_

_i want to hold him_

_maybe i’m misreading him_

_i want to kiss him again_

**_August 17_ **

_i played video games with akechi_

~~_(heavily redacted)_ ~~

**_September 3_ **

_we went to the bath house_

_he’s an orphan_

_i was right, by the way_

_the very air around him tastes like tragedy i don't know how else to describe it_

_( ~~redacted~~ ) _

**_November 2_ **

_i don’t think I can do what the Thieves need me to do_

_( ~~redacted~~ ) _

_i shouldnt have kissed him again_

_i shouldnt have done it the first time_

**_November 4_ **

_I’m in love with him. He’s going to kill me and I’m in love with him._

_I kissed him again_

_I don’t know what to do_

_I just want to pretend this isn’t happening_

_I want to think some part of him knows that I know_

_He kissed me back_

_I’ve never been kissed like that before_

_he’s never kissed me like that before_

_Like he needed me_

_like when they say in books that someone kisses like they’re drowning and the person they’re kissing is air_

_that’s what it was like_

_Somedays I wish he’d just ( ~~redacted~~ ) already. _

_Is that so awful of me_

_To wish for ( ~~redacted~~ ) _

_Obviously it’s not going to happen_

_I have to lead, and to lead I have to live_

_I don’t want to lead anymore_

_I’m tired_

_I’m sick of all of this_

_I just want him to be okay_

_i just want it to end up okay_

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


**July 7**

They’re lying next to one another in bed, Akechi running his fingers over Akira’s chest, smoothing across his pecs, listening to him breathe in the darkness. _My enemy._

“Goro,” Akira says softly, a faint slur to his words, alcohol on their breath, and for some reason Akechi savors the way he says it— _tenderly_ like he’d say it the same way even if he _knew—_

“I have something I want to tell you, because I really like you,”

He flattens his palm just above Akira’s heart, wishing he could feel it beat through their skin, but he doesn’t move to look at Akira. Especially not now. 

“I like you, too,” Akechi says, poison in his blood, heat on his skin, 

“and because I trust you.” and if Akechi’s blood hadn’t already been pounding in his ears it definitely would be, now.

 _he knows, he_ **_knows_ **

“I’m the leader of the Phantom Thieves.”

Akechi’s heart promptly stops, the alcohol fades— a bucket of cold water, he is startlingly sober.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I just think what I do can help people. I wanted to tell you sooner, but..”

“No— why are you—“ and Akechi tilts his head back, puts his hand on his skin closest to Akira’s chest in order to avoid getting tears on him— silent as they are, he can still hide them. “—why are you telling me?”

“Because I trust you.”

“You said that.”

“And because it’s you.”

But that’s not what he means, not entirely. Akira has this terrible habit of not saying what he means when he really, really needs to, but saying what he thinks needs to be heard, instead.

It’s a loaded statement, there’s something behind it that Akechi can’t quite figure out. It’s not just ‘because I like you’ and it’s not just ‘because it’s you’ it’s—

“Akira?”

Akira’s smiling, and he can just barely make it out in the darkness— fond, but also sort of sad. Aged. 

“ _Are you in love with me_ ?” he doesn’t say, and it tastes like acid on the back of his tongue _._

“ _Am I in love with you_?” he doesn’t say, and it feels like he’s burning from the inside out.

_“And I’d leave it all behind if you asked me to.” Akira doesn’t add, as the darkness is enveloped with silence._

* * *

**November 2**

Akira kisses him, and it’s soft and sad and it tastes like goodbye, but Akechi pulls him back. 

“I hate you, I _hate_ how you make me feel.”

And Goro kisses him, needy and lost, and _confused,_ but he feels like if Akira were to leave right now he’d lose his mind, chase after him, tell him everything and beg for forgiveness _, revenge be damned._

But Akira doesn’t leave, because he is Akira, and because some part of both of them knows that they have parts to play, and that they are not on the same side of the chess board, not even when their eyes are shut and it’s just the two of them lost in the shadows of Goro’s bedroom, no, not even then.

“That’s okay,” Akira says softly, between one kiss and the next, “I know. Which is why I never said—”

“I hate you.”

Akira is silent for a moment, and softly, barely a sound, beneath his breath, “I care about you.”

“Don’t say that—“

“I can’t let you think I don’t.”

“I _hate_ you. I _hate_ _you_.” 

Goro catches Akira’s bottom lip between his teeth, panting into his open mouth and pushing him down.

The saltiness of his tears tastes good on their lips, and Akira drinks them like he’s drowning, and quite honestly, he is.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


_Their relationship is the way Crow is addicted to the way it feels to kill, their relationship is the way somedays Joker can only quell the shaking of his hands with vices his body is too young for— Their relationship is the way Akechi Goro begs Kurusu Akira not to say ‘i love you’ and the way Kurusu Akira says it with his eyes, instead._

* * *

Their relationship is the way Akechi Goro holds in a scream, perched just beneath his chin as Kurusu Akira’s lifeless body hits the table, splattering blood across the surface. 

The way all he can think is ‘if it was suicide wouldn’t he have shot himself in the side of the head?’

He holds in the scream all the way to the train, all the way to the waterside and the bridge that only the yakuza really risks hanging out beneath. 

And he still holds it in. 

He holds it in even as he walks back to the train, even as he enters his apartment, and lies down on his bed, thinking only of the image of Kurusu’s body looking so distinctly inhuman, somehow, right as the bullet entered his head, as blood flooded down his porcelain skin, ran across his nose, down his cheek until he hit the table, splashing blood and brain matter all over the black surface— a stark contrast— red and black. It’s as if the colors follow Akira— _follow Kurusu_ —- (he can’t decide whether or not they’re familiar anymore) around like a plague. 

He holds in that scream because if he were to begin screaming now, he’d never be able to stop.

Killing Shido wouldn’t even be enough to make this okay.

* * *

  
  


Akechi Goro nearly falls off the catwalk when he sees him. Nearly cries, nearly screams, nearly turns him around and kisses the breath out of him, for no reason other than that there _is_ breath in him. 

“So you tricked me. I underestimated you, it would seem.”

He monologues to Joker’s back, he monologues to the back of his head and that’s fine, because he doesn’t want to see his face, he doesn’t want to see the horror in those slate grey eyes, he doesn’t want to watch them go glassy as he places the silencer in his blazer.

“Shido is your _father?”_

Joker turns around, and there is _something_ in his eyes that should not be there, though there is no hole in his forehead, and the shine to his eyes isn’t glassy. 

“So that’s it, huh? Revenge?”

Akechi can barely hide his reaction, faintly but visibly recoiling, “Is that so hard to believe? My mother commited suicide because of me— because of _him._ Why does that seem so irrational to you?” 

“Oh, cut the shit.”

Half the phantom thieves physically flinch, Yusuke going so far as to reach out for Joker’s sleeve.

“I’m not sure how you think this is going to go, but Shido’s going to kill you. Especially if he finds out you're his illegitimate son. I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Joker...“ Futaba whispers, and she sounds sort of scared, if Akechi had to put an emotion to her voice.

“Stay _out of this!”_

Joker stalks forward, looking so much like a harbinger of death that Akechi has to physically force himself not to take a step back, force himself to meet Joker’s candy red eyes.

“Do you think that nobody would give a fuck about you if you died? Is that it? You don’t care if you make it out? As long as his life is ruined? You think he doesn’t already _know?”_

“You don’t know anything about what I think!”

Joker laughs, and this is not _Joker but_ _Akira,_ because they are two very different people, and Joker is a little bit mean and very much their Leader— commanding, so decisive it verges on cruel, but Akira _is_ cruel. Akira breathes in the hate and hurls it back like a dagger to a weak point. 

“What do you think it would take someone like me to say ‘i love you’ _?”_

And there it is— because Akira always goes for the jugular. _Weak Point. Critical Hit._

Akechi feels _wounded._

“Shut up.”

“That scares you, doesn’t it.”

“Stay away from me.”

“It scares you because you’ve never had it before. Do I look like I’m lying? Do I look like I don’t _know you?_ Inside and out, better than I know myself, Akechi Goro, I know you. You thought you were fooling me this whole time, didn’t you? Untouchable Detective Prince, well newsflash— You’re not as unknowable or untouchable as you think.” 

“You know nothing about me! You’re just some worthless attic trash— you weren’t even _worth_ killing! I’ve been _letting_ you live! I hold your life in my hands, do you understand that? You are _nothing_ and you will _die as nothing!”_ His voice is hoarse from the screaming, but Akira is unfazed— an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. 

“ _Goro_ , I care for you. You can push me away, you can try to kill me, you can _hate_ me but I will not stop _caring for you_!”

“ _Caring for me?_ You barely know me— I have shown you _nothing_.”

“I know you better than _anyone_ ! I know you like your coffee best when the aftertaste is sweet, I know that even now, you want to reach out to touch me but you don’t, I know that you’re so angry that you can’t _think._ I know that you have 24 scars on your body and 13 of them are from the Metaverse and 7 of them are from _me_ . I know that you hide from me because you’re scared of how you feel— so, accuse me of being attic trash, of being worthless— but do _not_ think for even a _second_ that I don’t _know you.”_

“I’m going to _fucking kill you._ And when you bleed to death after I _triumph_ I’m going to resurrect you so that I can make you turn against your friends. I’m going to watch as you tear apart the people you love like a feral dog and then I will _put you down.”_

 _“_ Very dramatic, how long have you been practicing that one?”

_“Enough of this! Come, Loki.”_

“ _Raphael!”_

* * *

  
  


“You won’t say no, will you?” He says, because this is his one chance to have a dramatic death— one where many tears are shed and his lover tries to reach him as he heroically saves them all— but god, he doesn’t want to die, and frankly, he’s scared to, even though he’s faced death a thousand times. 

Maybe it’s because he wishes more than anything that he’d have met Akira a few years earlier, that they could’ve had a chance to _be_ something.

Maybe this is love.

Maybe that’s why, as he levels a gun at his imposter’s head, he finds silent tears slipping down his face, hot, angry tears. 

“Change Shido’s heart for me. Promise me that, please.”

“As long as you keep your promise,” Akira whispers, “Goro.”

And isn’t that so much worse than _I’ll never forgive you if you die_ or _if you die_ _I’ll kill you myself_ or any of the other thousand things he could have said. 

Instead of responding, Akechi Goro pulls the trigger and ceases to be.

Akira hisses through his teeth, clenching his jaw as he curls his fist against the bulkhead. 

“The only readings I’m getting are of the weaklings…” 

Akira slams the side of his fist against the metal even though he _knows_ the only good it will do is make his bones rattle all the way up to his teeth.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Akira hardly makes a sound as they head back to Leblanc, his eyes distant, his shoulders stiff.

He stays toward the back of the group, though, and none of them really notice even as they part ways, Futaba returning to the Sakura house to give him space.

He doesn’t even register falling to the ground. 

Sojiro immediately runs from his place at the sink to see what happened, calling out for Akira as soon as he sees him. 

Akira’s on his knees, clutching at his chest.

His scream is loud enough that it would wake the neighbors were any of them at their shops at this hour. 

He screams like he’s dying, like there is a sword plunged deep into his stomach and brutally wrenched free, trilling off into a raw sob as he ducks his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

He doesn’t even seem to notice Sojiro is there at first.

“Akira—!” Sojiro pulls his hands away from where they’re clawing at his chest and inspects him, and Akira buries his face in his sweater. 

He never cries, at least not in front of anyone. 

“What happened, Akira, are you hurt?”

He doesn’t stop crying for several minutes, his breathing uneven and hiccuping.

He tries to speak several times, but can only get as far as ‘he’ or ‘Goro’.

“Goro? Akechi Goro?”

Akira wails like he has lost something unspeakably precious.

_Keep my promise._

* * *

Sae’s words fade into the background, and Akira’s whole body, or at least, his awareness of it, seems to slip into the back of his mind, its only purpose to bring him _forward,_ toward Akechi, who is somehow— _somehow_ in front of him. Goro’s body is _warm_ and _real_ and _solid_ against him, even in the cold. Akira hides his face in his blazer, openly sobbing, and Goro _freezes,_ honestly tenses and doesn’t move for a good two minutes. and then his arms wrap around Akira, one hand rising to his hair.

Akira flinches back once he moves, and Goro recoils, but Akira immediately grabs the sides of his face and kisses him, trying _desperately_ to convey how unbelievably glad he is to see him in the icy press of their lips, his eyes already closed.Goro isn’t sure how to respond, not really, but he kisses back, albeit a bit hesitant, and slowly raises his hands to rest on Akira’s shoulders, letting his eyes flutter closed, too. 

“Hey,” Akira says, breathlessly, looking into Akechi’s rust-red eyes with something like wonder.

“Honey I’m home,” Goro quotes, because he’s a little bit overwhelmed, and because he doesn’t know how to respond to that _look_ or the way Akira kissed him like he…

“I love you.”

Goro’s mouth opens, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get any sound to come out. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Maruki raises his own phone, the Metanav brightly glowing on the screen. 

“Akira Kurusu.”

Joker’s head whips around, and the color drains from his face, the red glint his eyes harbor in the metaverse bleeding into his irises until they glow a feral ruby. 

“The World.”

Crow’s raising his gun, now, and Ryuji has to wrench his arm back so that the shot goes wide. Makoto calls on Johanna to subdue Crow, but he immediately calls upon Loki. 

Loki instantly searches for Arsène upon being called out, and then uses a fraction of his power to cause madness on Captain Kidd, tricking him into fighting Johanna. 

“Prison.”

The Metanav glimmers approvingly, a soft jingle coming from Maruki’s phone.

“ _Loki!”_ he screams, as Joker clutches at his head, Arsène rising of his own free will to attempt to protect him. 

Loki cuts through the fighting personas and reaches out to Arsène—

A shadow knocks Joker in the back of the head, causing him to crumple, causing Arsène to lose focus, and Maruki casts something on him as his palace shifts into Joker’s. 

“What did you _do?”_

“What the hell?” Ann’s screams, and she looks like she’s about to _murder_ Akechi.

“Akira was obviously distressed, and you all ignored him, like you _always do_ so I took action!”

“We never ignore him! He has a palace, of course he’s distressed we found out—“ and that’s not what she meant to say, not like that at least,

but suddenly Haru’s at her throat, but she still hates Akechi, so she’s against him, too.

So Futaba backs out, and yeah, this is her brother they’re talking about, after all, but—

“Oracle?” Yusuke asks softly.

“Behind that desk there’s an open cell.”

The cell door opens with a heinous screech. 

There is a tunnel, barely large enough to fit one person at the back, but a steady draft is coming from it, and plenty of light, too.

And there he is— Akira Kurusu.

But… not quite.

He’s in his Joker costume, mostly monochromatic, save for the pristine red gloves, but there are wings sprouting out of his lower back, almost at his hips, and black chains glowing an unnatural blue poking through various parts of his body, meeting in his back and disappearing through a hole in his coat. The chains proceed upward from there, wrapping around his throat in one set and another set piercing his forearms, the hook used to pierce through the skin bent to curl around his arm neatly. The chains even reach down to his legs, moving aside the wings, piercing through and then wrapping around his calves. 

The chains sort of hover, clearly as much a part of his body as his arms and legs are. 

His eyes are a beautiful golden color, quite unlike the usual Palace owners’ disgusting mustard yellow— they shine off of the fresh blood coating his face, where his mask would usually be, blue flame licks at his skin when he brushes his hair out of his eyes.

Blue flame explodes from his face, cleaning it of blood.

An alarm blares, and he smiles, putting a finger to his lips.

A wound opens on his neck, spraying blood on all of them in an impossibly wide and long spray as his severed head falls to the ground, his body crumpling beneath it. 

Ryuji screams, quite understandably.

They call this one Joker.

Another Akira, eyes that same golden, wearing a prison uniform steps toward a guillotine they hadn't noticed before. 

They look away before the blade falls, but blood gets on them anyway, the image projects itself onto the back of their eyelids.

This one they call Kurusu. 

Again, but bloodied and bruised— from the interrogation room— steps forward, a gunshot splitting his head open.

This one is Kurusu, Akira

Now he’s summoning Satanael, and as the god appears he coughs up lungfuls of blood until he finally chokes on it. 

It isn’t beautiful, there’s nothing romantic about the tears that stream from his eyes, the fear that causes his body to seize, the blood and gore dripping down his chin, his teeth stained an ugly pink. 

This one is Leader. 

Again, and again, and again, Akira dies, until finally, they’re left with just one. 

and this one’s just Akira.

He’s on his knees in his favourite casual ensemble, whispering that he didn’t do anything wrong.

He tries to get up, but his legs buckle beneath him. 

The glasses he’d been holding in his hands break as he falls, and he received a few cuts, but they do not bleed that same purple as the others, no, they bleed a bright, molten red, the glow akin to magma. 

It’s only then that Goro’s in an outfit not entirely dissimilar to Joker’s, the purple stripes gone, his cape considerably longer and hooded, his helmet and neckpiece now both gone, it is more of a fusion between his other two costumes than anything else, golden armor plates adorning his arms and fading into scales in place of tassels. Thankfully, the clawed gauntlets remain, but the shoes have returned to boots, rather than a mockery of crows’ feet. 

The golden brooch holding the cape is in the shape of Valknut, Odin’s symbol of welcoming fallen warriors. 

His sword is more similar to that from his Dark suit, with its many teeth, but it looks like a flame, now, shifting from red to blue at its tip. 

“I always thought that your other costumes were stupid,” Akira whispers, picking glass out of his hand, “But I like this one—- it suits you.” 

“And so your cognition forced it to change?”

“I don’t think that’s possible. Your cognition is the one that changed, your persona changed, after all.”

“ _I am thou, Thou art I..”_

 _“Hereward,”_ he says, though it’s soft, and warmth travels through him.

Loki approves of Robin Hood’s transformation, and the Persona seems not entirely displeased, himself.

“Beautiful,” Akira murmurs, “you’re beautiful.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would be really really helpful!


End file.
